


Paper Patience

by journeycat



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/journeycat/pseuds/journeycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of Merric of Hollyrose. All he wants is to finish his mathematics homework.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Fairytales Challenge at Goldenlake in October 2009. Adapted from "If All the World Were Paper."

“I wish the entire world was made of paper.”

A slow, steady ache began to throb behind Merric’s right eye. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a couple of deep calming breaths like Kel taught him. _I am stone_ , he thought, glancing sideways at her. She was unperturbed and absorbed in the history book she shared with Faleron. _I am a clear lake without breeze...that would love to drown Queenscove. I don’t think that’s right, but I feel better already_. With an effort and a barely stifled sigh, he returned to his mathematics book.

The other pages hadn’t even glanced up from their work. Either they just didn’t hear Neal anymore, or they were far better than him at tolerating him.

“And all the sea should be ink.”

“So what,” Merric said, unable to keep silent, “you can write dreadful poetry all over my things? No, thank you.”

Neal said loftily, “Your callow eye just has no idea what true talent is.”

“I find it hard to believe that ‘Uline, O sunny dewdrop of my moonstruck eye’ could be considered talent.”

“You—”

“Boys,” Kel interrupted impassively without taking her eyes from the page, “behave.”

They glared daggers at each other, but obediently returned to their work. Kel may have just been thirteen, but she was a _beastly_ thirteen, and he certainly had no interest in crossing her. He carried a seven over to the four, adding it up to eleven. _So then I take one hundred sixteen_ , he thought, _and add that to x—but if it’s the area, maybe I add it to y—_

“But what would the trees be, do you think?”

“Don’t you have something better to do than breathe?”

Neal scowled at him. “Don’t you have an imagination? An eye for transformation? A mind for creativity? An ear for—”

“Would you like to know what I have a fist for?”

“Neal, Merric,” Kel said patiently, “be quiet.”

Neal grumbled to himself, staring resentfully at Merric as he flipped the page harder than necessary. The redhead ignored him. _So I have one hundred sixteen, and add it to this. Should I divide that by this x-squared...? No, I multiply it, and then—_

“I think all the trees would be bread and cheese.”

“Will you just shut up?” Merric exploded. “I’m trying to work.”

“I’m just saying, you ignorant carrot-head, that if all the trees were bread and cheese—”

“—Then what should we have to drink?” Kel said in exasperation. “Really, Neal, be practical and stop this silliness. It’s ridiculous. And Merric, don't let him provoke you. A pig can’t change its squeal.”

“So mote it be," Faleron said, straight-faced.


End file.
